


The Wizards Themselves

by SpectralCommentator



Category: Door Monster, Harry Potter - Fandom, The Guards Themselves
Genre: Crossover, Friendship, Gen, I’m just really confused, Tag As I Go, dont know what to tag, these tags will be changing a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralCommentator/pseuds/SpectralCommentator
Summary: Noam was a prefectly normal boy. Well, ok, maybe not. But he was 190% sure that magic didn’t exist.I can’t write.Pls help.





	1. The prefectly normal prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> As you are most likely aware by now, this is my first time posting. I don’t know why I’m doing, and I cannot write. Pls send help.

Mister and Misses Masters were a perfectly normal couple who lived in a perfectly normal town. Their garden was filled with perfectly normal plants, and if you asked them what they liked to grow, they would hem and haw before telling you that, well, they didn’t grow much of anything!

And anyone who lives in their delightfully pleasant and normal town would nod their head and be content in the knowledge that they’re not the only person in the town who perhaps lacks a green thumb, and move on to talking about the weather, and the new episode of whichever show was popular, and not ever, ever talk about the boy who lives under the Masters roof.

Because, you see, the Masters had a little secret that they couldn’t let the town find out about. They had a unusual and strange young boy living under the roof of their suburban home that was truly anything but perfect, and he certainly wasn’t normal!

Because you see the child living under their roof didn’t act like a child should. Instead of going out to play with the neighborhood children he would sit inside and poke at the toaster until it launched bread in a most abnormal way, or until it exploded all over the Masters lovely and perfect kitchen.

So one day the Masters decided that it would perhaps be best if they sent this strange boy on a playdate with a lovely spectacled girl who just so happened to live next door.

So when the boy returned with singed clothes, a twitching body, and tears in his eyes, the Masters could only sigh and pull him inside.

Of course, they couldn’t have known that the girl was just as odd as the boy, and they certainly would never have sent the boy over if they had known that this incident would only make the boy even stranger.

But regardless of the reason, by the time school started, the Masters has decided to stow the boy away inside their normal and perfect house, and make sure that he couldn’t damage their perfectly normal reputation. They left him alone to his toasters and batteries, and he never bothered them again.

Now of course that is what would’ve happened if Noam hadn’t received a letter on the day of his 11th birthday. Because that day was truly where it all began.


	2. On a day like any other.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noam gets a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all I’m still here and I’m never leaving.

Noam expected things from life. He expected to wake up in the morning. He expected to eat breakfast at his family table. He expected things to go wrong when he tampered with electronics.

But this was beyond expectations.

Noam stared up at the bearded ratty man that had just burst through his front door wielding a knife in one hand and a letter in the other, and for the first of many times wondered if he was going to die.

The man shambles towards him and cleared his throat. As he moved he left a trail of scum behind him staining the carpet. Noam gripped the screwdriver he had been using to fix his watch tighter, and prepared to attack.

“Hello there boy” the man rasped, scratching his beard and glaring down at the still seated Noam with beady, dangerous looking eyes. 

“Wh-” Noam started, preparing himself to ask this clearly deranged man to leave his house. But before he could finish his first word the man had slammed the letter on the floor in front of him and disappeared into thin air. The only remaining traces of his presence were the hairs he had shed and the oder he had enmitted.

Noam spent a few seconds in silence, and then spent a few more debating wether or not he had inhaled too much paint and started hallucinating. Finally he shifted over on the couch cautiously and saw the letter lying slightly crumpled where the man had thrown it.

He started to reach out towards it from his place on the couch, but stopped when he realized that if the letter was real, then so was the man.

“Oh” Noam wispered, slowly retracting his hand and moving back to his previous spot on the couch.

“Oh no”

With a dawning sense of horror he stared down at the letter, it only took a few seconds for him to realize the danger he was in. The instant it dawned on him Noam’s eyes widened and he threw himself off of the back of the couch, laning in a paniced tangle of limbs. He hastily scrambled to his feet and bolted upstairs to his room. Dancing around the various piles of scrap metal and tangled of wire, he moved towards his bed.

Noam frantically searched his room for anything he had on bomb defusal, or chemical poisoning. Throwing clothes out of his drawer in hopes of finding research materials was useless, as was tearing into the boxes in his closet filled with half built forgotten creations. Scrounging around under his bed, however, bore fruit, as between the old clothes, dust, and broken glass bottles he found a rudimentary bomb defusal manual.

He pulled himself out from under the bed and thrust the book up into the air with a triumphant shout, before remembering that the reason he had found the book in the first place was because he had a possible bomb in his living room.

With a yelp Noam darted to his feat and sprinted for the door, only to trip on a pile of scrap, smack his head on a fourtanaly clean patch of floor, and pass out.

By the time he awoke, his parents had returned home, found the letter and the grime, and threw it all away. They cleaned up every bit of the bearded mans presence, and except for the knife mark on the door from where he had first entered, there was no trace of his existence. In fact, it was like he was never there at all.

Noam would consider the whole thing a fever dream, and the world was content to let him think that.

For a while.


End file.
